Thanks for the reviews!
You guys are amazing! You all reviewed so quickly! I'm so happy right now! Look at all these exclamation marks!
Mondlercrazy0508: Your review made me laugh at several points.
I love long reviews! And to think: I got a long review for a short chapter. I feel very lucky right now. :D
Spitfire303: Ugh. Paranoia sucks. I once rejected a guy because the thought in my head at the time was that I didn't want to inevitably break up with him. Seriously.
I'm starting to think that being a forward-thinker isn't the greatest thing.
Sweet Sugarrrush: Yeah, in your face, Judy! XD
Did the British chippy even have any lines in the last chapter? I can't remember. Of course, I could just go back and read it to find out, but I'm lazy.
Lobstersaremyfriends: As for Judy, I wanted to have her be mean to Monica to fit her character, but then I found how awful I was feeling for writing that way. Then, I remembered how happy Judy always was when she saw Monica actually with someone.
Then, I still had that request to have Mondler say their "I love you"s, so I got an idea.
Judy yells at Monica. Chandler defends Monica. Chandler accidentally says that he loves Monica. Mondler fluff commences. Blah, blah, blah.
(That's essentially the wording I used in my notes for the previous chapter. I don't take my notes very seriously.)
R. Gatz: XD Will do.
Oh, wait—I just did! :D
So, this chapter doesn't really take place during the dance, but I still call it "The Dance – Part V". I really don't care.
Well, anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Ah, who am I kidding? You guys are gonna hate me after this chapter. But some things . . . they just have to happen. Sorry.
Well, the dance was pretty fun—I guess. Sort of. I suppose.
Okay, not really.
I tried to enjoy it; I really did. But I just couldn't stop thinking about the conversation I'll be having with David very soon. Monica was right: I should've just gotten it out of the way. As of now, the school administrators are herding everybody out of the gym. The dance is over, but some kids are still trying to loot the snack bar before they leave. Some teachers came a while ago to take the punch bowl away. I wonder what they did with it.
We all head out of the gymnasium, planning to go to Central Perk and meet up with Ross. But I have one little thing I need to do first. I tell the others to go on ahead, and I ask David to come to my dorm with me to talk about something.
"A—actually," he says, "there—there's something I need to— I need to talk to you about."
I take note of the stuttering. Nowadays, David only stutters when he's really nervous about something. This, in turn, make me nervous. We silently head for my dorm. When we finally arrive, we head inside and sit on the couch near the door.
"So . . . ," I begin, though I have no idea where I'm going with this sentence. "You, um . . . You can go first."
"O—okay," he says reluctantly, looking down in disappointment. It's clear enough that he isn't ready to say what he has to say. But he continues nonetheless: "Re—remember earlier how, um— how Chandler said that . . . thing about Monica?"
It takes me a minute to figure out what he's talking so vaguely about. "You mean when he told her he loves her?" I say, trying to help him along.
"Um, yeah. That." I can see him trying to control his breathing, a trick that helps him keep his stuttering at bay. "When he . . . said that, it—it made me realize"—he pauses, glancing down at the ground before looking back up at me and smiling—"that I love you."
"Wha—what?" I stutter in reply, the true reality of what he has just said not yet hitting me. But then my mind finally processes the meaning of the words, and my jaw unhinges itself. Yet, once again, all I can think to say is "What?"
"I, uh— I said that I love—," David begins, only to have me cut him off mid-sentence.
"No, I heard you," I interrupt. I suck in a deep breath, then slowly let it go. "Wow," I say, though I'm not exactly sure what emotion the word is supposed to convey. Surprise? No, that's not it. That's the weird thing. I'm not surprised. It's almost as if I saw this coming. But . . . I didn't.
Did I?
Maybe I did. But maybe I just didn't realize it until now.
"Wow," I repeat.
A fear-stricken look crosses David's face. "Are—are you okay?"
"What?" I look up at him when I realize that I was staring at my feet. "Oh, um . . . yeah." I form a lopsided grin.
David's eyebrows crawl around like little furry bugs on his face, forming expression after expression, representing the boy's mixed emotions. "What does— what exactly does that mean?" He swallows in anticipation of what I'm about to say.
"Oh!" I say, suddenly realizing what I'm supposed to say at this point. God, I'm acting like such an idiot right now. I guess it's just the shock. Boy, I do not handle news very well—good or bad. "Sorry, I mean . . . I meant to say . . ." I shake my head to myself. David's supposed to be the awkward one with the speech impediment. Not me. I let out a small laugh, though I have no idea why. Probably some reaction to nervousness. Finally, I say, "I love you, too."
David lets out a long breath of relief. He smiles, forming an almost giddy expression. It looks like the kid just got out of a life-threatening situation, and he's lost his mind from the euphoria of the relief. Funny. Sounds more like something I would do: losing my mind. I guess we've kind of switched places momentarily.
"Oh, thank God," he finally says, making me laugh. After a moment, he continues: "So, what did you need to talk about?"
Hmm . . . that's a good question. What was it that I was going to talk about? I can't remember. Oh well. Probably doesn't matter anymore anyway.
"Forget about it," I say with a smile, shaking my head dismissively. I check my nonexistent watch. "Well, we better head off to Central Perk now. Don't wanna leave the others waiting."
. . .
David and I walk through the doors to Central Perk with two huge smiles on our faces. Finally, this day is taking a good turn. Something good has happened today.
I start to get the feeling that something else good is about to happen when I spot Ross sitting on the big orange couch with a phone to his ear and a huge smile of his own on his face. I silently make my way closer to the group, David following behind me. Monica, Chandler, Phoebe, and Mike are all there. I guess the British chippy must've left at some point. I find a chair and bring it over to the group, taking a seat. David does the same. In a whisper, I ask Monica what's going on.
"He got a call from Rachel," she whispers. "And he's smiling, which is a good sign."
"From Rachel?" I ask, sure I didn't hear her right. "From Rachel?"
Just then, Ross says goodbye and hangs up. He puts away the phone and smiles brightly. We're all silent for a moment before bombarding him with questions. He silences us with a simple hand gesture that looks almost as if he's trying to squish an imaginary object in his hands, though it's clear that he wants us to quiet down.
"Well, what did she say?" an impatient Monica asks.
"She said"—Ross paused and grinned—"that she never really wanted a break. She wants to get back together with me! Isn't that great?"
I can't suppress my smile at that news. "That is great, Ross! Congratulations!" I tell him happily. Oh, man. This day just gets better and better! I'm not even being sarcastic when I say that—I mean, think that. Oh, whatever. That's not really important right now. Silly technicalities.
The others follow suit with more congratulating. This is truly amazing! Jeez, and I thought this was turning into the worst day ever. Well, things sure have taken a turn for the better. I smirk at the thought.
Ross cuts into the congratulating. "Hey, so, Rach told me that she could meet us at your dorm"—he looked at Monica and me—"if that's all right with you guys."
Monica and I reply at the same time.
"Sure."
"That's fine."
"Great," Ross replies. "Well, she said she would be there in about fifteen minutes." That's when something occurs to me: If Rachel isn't here, in Central Perk, then where is she? My only guess is her house. I know that it's pretty close to the school, so fifteen minutes sounds like a reasonable amount of time that it could take for her to get there. Ross continues: "So, I guess we better head off now—if that's all right with you guys." I laugh inwardly at his use of the same exact wording.
We all agree and head out of the coffeehouse, headed for my dorm.
. . .
It takes us about ten minutes to get there, leaving us approximately five minutes until Rachel shows up. We all head inside the dorm, and it suddenly occurs to me that our "little" group isn't quite so little anymore. There's Ross, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe, Mike, David, and me—and that's not even all of us. There's also Rachel and Joey and I guess the British chippy is trying to join our group now, too. I remember a time back when it was just Monica, Chandler, and me. I remember being jealous and paranoid when we met Joey, fearing that I was going to be replaced. Well, that sure was stupid of me to think. Now, there's ten of us in all, and I'm still just as much in this group as ever. My only fear right now is that Joey and Ross's friendship has been ruined. Ugh—stupid Chloe, ruining everything.
Anyway . . . I'm getting a bit off track here.
The seven of us find our places in the dorm. Chandler, Monica, and Ross take the couch. Phoebe and Mike sit in nearby chairs. I stay standing near the door with David. It's both kind of weird and kind of cute how he always seems to be following me around, even when I'm not really talking to him or anything. He just likes being near me, I guess; and I like being near him. Especially after that . . . conversation. Oh, why am I being all subtle? I love him! And I love that I love him! This is such a great feeling! A feeling so great, I have to end every sentence with an exclamation point!
Ross goes to answer the door when he hears a knock. As soon as the door swings open, Rachel storms in, not looking too happy. Wait, what? What's going on? I thought we were being happy for once!
She glares at Ross for a moment before speaking.
"You kissed Joey's girlfriend?" she asks without preamble.
"Uh-oh" I hear Chandler say. Before I can even register what's happening, we're all moving into another room—Monica's bedroom. Well, all of us except Ross and a furious Rachel. Chandler closes the door behind us and then presses his ear up against the door.
I roll my eyes. "Seriously, Chandler?"
"Come on!" he urges. "Don't you wanna know what's going on?"
I ponder that for only a moment before pressing my ear up against the door as well. Monica, Phoebe, Mike, and David all follow suit. We're a pathetic group, the six of us. Truly pathetic. With great effort, we all manage to find room for ourselves. I hear voices from the other side of the door, though it takes a minute for me to be able to make out any words. The first decipherable words come from Rachel.
"I don't care if she kissed you!" I hear her exclaim. She pauses, and when she speaks again, her voice is calmed down a bit—just a bit. "Ross, you kissed someone else. Or she kissed you—whatever. The point is: you should've told me this on the phone."
"I know," Ross says shamefully, sounding disappointed in himself. "You're right: I should have. I'm so, so sorry. I . . . I just wasn't thinking about it at the time."
"Yeah, well, why not?" Rachel cuts in. "A girl kisses you, and you just act like it never happened?"
"I—I don't know. I don't know what was going through my head," Ross says apologetically. "I—I guess I was just so amazingly over-the-top happy to hear you on the phone, saying that you wanted to get back together, that the kiss was completely out of my mind at that point."
It seems like a reasonable excuse to me, but Rachel still sounds furious when she finally replies. "God, and to have to hear it from Joey, while in the hallway, coming over to see you!"
Finally, some explanation! So Joey was the one to spill the secret, huh? Not too surprising, considering how pissed he is at Ross at the moment. Is it just me, or does it sound like Rachel and Joey are making a bit too big of a deal out of this? Chloe kissed Ross. Come on, people! Use some common sense! Ross did nothing wrong!
I wonder if today is National Put Down Ross Day. It sure seems like it.
Ross and Rachel continue to argue—and by "argue", I mean that Rachel continues to yell at Ross and that Ross continues to apologize even though he didn't really do anything wrong—for a long, long, long time. How long has it been? Hours? Days? Years? Sure feels like years.
Well, at least I know that they'll have to stop at some point to go to bed. We've got school tomorrow, for crying out loud!
Wait, no we don't. I completely forgot: Today was the last day of school before Thanksgiving Break. Oh, great. We're gonna be stuck hiding out in Monica's bedroom for the rest of our lives!
Well, more like a week—but close enough!
Okay, I doubt they're going to argue for the entire week. At some point, someone's gonna get hungry or tired or something. The arguing should end soon . . . right? It doesn't sound like it, though. It sounds more like there's no end to this argument. The two of them are just going to make the same points over and over and over and over . . . (this could go on for a while) . . . and over again. Meanwhile, I'm starting to get pretty hungry. I really should've eaten more at the dance. I haven't had dinner, and I'm starting to get the feeling that I never will. I'll just sit in here, listening to these two argue, for the rest of my life—until I slowly starve to death, and then my corpse will rot and rot and . . .
Okay, the hunger is definitely starting to go to my head.
As if reading my mind, David asks, "Is anybody else getting really hungry?"
A bit to my surprise, everyone else in the room replies with a "yes".
"Well," I say, "does anybody happen to have any food on them?" Everybody shakes their head. I let out a long sigh. "Well, this sucks." I fall into a chair in hopelessness, followed by another sigh. "Anybody got any bright ideas?"
"Maybe we should just go out there," Mike suggests. He's then met by five angry stares. "Come on, they're not just gonna let us starve in here."
Oh, silly Mike. "Any better ideas?" I ask. "Preferably, an idea that won't end with Rachel killing all six of us." I'm already worried for Ross's safety, being in the same room as Angry Rachel; I don't want to put my own life in danger, too.
That's when Phoebe speaks up. "Oh, we could play cards!" She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a full deck of cards. "Wait, these are the trick deck." She puts the deck back and pulls out another from her other pocket.
Typical Pheebs.
"Perfect!" I say happily. Okay, so it doesn't solve the hunger problem, but at least we have a way to pass the time. "What should we play? Go Fish? Crazy Eights?"
"Ooh, Crazy Eights!" Phoebe exclaims excitedly. "I love crazy things!"
"Crazy Eights it is, then," I declare. Everybody else goes with it—no arguments or disagreements. This is such a great feeling! It's like I'm their leader or dictator or something. They're just going along with whatever I say. It's awesome! No wonder Monica likes to be in control so much.
. . .
Ten minutes in, and I've realized that this is the most boring game ever. Oh, it never ends! Can't it just end already?
Well, anything is better than listening to Ross and Rachel argue. I mean, they're still arguing, and I can still hear it, but I'm trying not to focus on it too much. At some point, the two of them are going to run out of points to make . . . or maybe they'll realize that they've been making the same points over and over again for the past several hours. Seriously, this conversation of theirs is going absolutely nowhere, accomplishing absolutely nothing.
Another fifteen minutes go by before the others begin to show signs of boredom. We all let out tired sighs as Chandler places an eight of hearts onto the pile—(Seriously, how many eights has that boy gotten? I didn't even realize there were that many eights in the deck!)—and calls out clubs. The enthusiasm has been completely wiped from Phoebe's expression as she places a two of clubs on top of Chandler's eight of hearts. It's my turn, and I don't have a two or a club or an eight or anything that I need. I exhale sharply in frustration. Angrily, I draw card after card until I get what I need: a two of spades. I slap the card down onto the pile.
Bored yet? I sure am. That's the only reason I'm even describing the game: just to show you how amazingly boring it is.
Somebody shoot me, 'cause I'm bored to tears.
Huh. That reminds me of Weird Al's "Skipper Dan". The song pleasantly runs through my head, entertaining me and bringing me out of the doldrums of this crazy night. I kind of zone out a bit, which is perfectly fine with me and very enjoyable. Of course, it's not exactly a happy song, but it's definitely funny, which helps.
Look at those hippos, they're wiggling their ears,
Just like they've done for the last fifty years.
Now I'm laughing at my own jokes, but I'm crying inside,
'Cause I'm working on the Jungle Cruise ride.
"Ground Control to Major Tom." Chandler's voice snaps me back to reality. I look up at him.
"Huh?"
"You zoned off," he says dully. "It's your turn."
"Oh" is all I can think to say. Very typical of Chandler to reference "Space Oddity". Any other time, I would laugh and maybe tease him a little for it—though, now, I don't feel like I even have the energy. I take my turn in silence. We've stopped attempting conversation about twenty minutes ago. It was just a lame distraction from what's really going on here—from the reality of the situation that we all know is the evitable: Rachel is going to break up with Ross. She hasn't said any such thing, but her level of anger has made it clear enough. Man, is she pissed at Ross right now. It's enough to piss me off. Poor Ross, I can't stop thinking. Poor, poor Ross.
The sad thing is: I'm not even trying to see Rachel's side of this. I mean, I guess she has a point. He should've told her about the kiss. But, then again, is it really that important of a piece of information to share? Well, I suppose he should've thought of Joey telling her; but, in his defense, he was probably still a little drunk and not thinking clearly. Plus, it's been a rough day for him, so his mind was probably a little preoccupied, especially considering the wonderful news he was hearing over the phone. Why would he be worrying about Joey at the time?
Of course, I was hanging out with Ross all throughout the dance, so of course I'm going to see his side of the situation. It's not like I really understand why they went on that break in the first place. Monica mentioned something brief about the reason, but I'm sure even she doesn't know the full story. Maybe I should ask her what exactly Ross told her. She may not know everything, but she sure as hell knows more than me.
In the middle of my train of thought, I suddenly realize that it's gotten pretty quiet on the other side of the door. I haven't heard either Ross or Rachel say a word in several minutes. I'm not sure if that's a good sign or a really terrible one. Most likely the latter.
That's when I notice everybody looking at me. It must be my turn. "Hold on a minute, guys," I say, walking toward the door. I press my ear up against it, just as I did oh-so-many hours ago. I can hear very faint speaking, though it's neither Ross nor Rachel's voice. An eerie chill runs up my spine. What in the world? Whose voice is that? I try to listen more carefully, and I finally manage to make out one word in the middle of a stream of them.
". . . pizza . . ."
Oh, are you fucking kidding me? I quickly put the pieces together. They ordered a pizza! We're in here, starving, and they ordered a pizza! That other voice must've been the delivery guy. I cannot believe those two. They ordered a pizza when they know the six of us are in here, just as hungry as they are—that is, assuming they haven't eaten any of our food, too, throughout the night. Now, I'm mad at both of them! I don't care who's right and who's wrong in this situation. No, not anymore. You see, this is what hunger does to a person—especially a teenager; we don't handle hunger very well, and we have stomachs the size of the solar system.
A sudden knock on the door makes me jump back in shock. The sound felt like an explosion in my ear—whatever that feels like. It's not like I would know.
The door swings open, showing a distraught Ross on the other side with a pizza box in his arms. I glare daggers at him.
"Where's Rachel?" I hear Monica ask, though I'm too focused on Ross to look in her direction.
"She left," Ross says, his voice cracking slightly. "She . . . We broke up." My expression immediately softens. "I . . . I figured you guys must be hungry, so . . ." He nodded his head down at the pizza box.
Monica takes the box from him, placing it on top of her dresser. She goes back over to Ross and hugs him. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
"Yeah," Ross says with a faraway look in his eyes. "Me too."
Is anybody else crying right now?
No?
Yeah, neither was I.
Um . . . anyway . . .
I . . . I'm sorry. I felt that needed to be said: I'm sorry. I feel truly evil right now. I feel like a horrible, despicable, terrible person. I'm sure Lobstersaremyfriends would agree.
So, this concludes the first quarter of this story. That's right: I'm only a quarter of the way through. I have 100 chapters planned until this story is over—75 more as of now. We have a long way to go. Let's just hope I can update quicker than I have been. Speaking of which, I'm sorry this chapter took so long to write. I'm just really terrible at writing the emotional stuff. Luckily, the story gets more lighthearted in the next chapter. It actually stays on some pretty light subjects for quite a while, which is good. Those kind of chapters are really easy for me to write, so updates should be quick for a little while.
Well, despite the depressing ending, I hope you guys enjoyed!